Page 453 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

It doesn’t command.

It waits.

Riley closes his eyes and finds Vasily there, not inside his mind, not like Julian was, but near. A living certainty reinforcing the walls of himself. Strong heart, steady hands, fear held carefully behind the ribs.

Riley feels Vasily’s own loss, his grief, his worry and the terrible, aching love for the brother who may be dead somewhere in the Tower.

And beneath all of it, concern for Riley.

Not lust, not ownership.

Genuine concern.

‘Better?’

‘Y-yeah.’

Vasily’s hand stills against his back. ‘Good.’

Beyond the trees, something detonates.

The earth jumps beneath them.

Riley lifts his head.

The Tower is still burning.

His people are still inside.

Grief will have to wait.

‘We need to go.’

‘Can you stand?’

‘I don’t know.’

Vasily rises first and offers a hand, which Riley takes. The world tilts as he’s pulled upright, but the bond holds a line through the centre of it.

His legs hold.

They turn towards the Tower.

The route back is strewn with bodies of the men who killed one another for ownership of Riley. Men from rival units killed one another at touching distance. One still grips the throat of the man who shot him. Another has bled out with his hand extended in the direction Riley fled.

Riley keeps walking, ignores it for now.

The closer they get, the quieter the battle becomes.

The scattered violence has consolidated into sharp bursts of gunfire, shouted coordinates, disciplined movement. The Tower is burning in parts. Flames curl from broken windows. Smoke pours black against the rain. Part of the outer wall is gone. The rain is smothering the fire, and the top part seems intact, but the damage is substantial.

They cross the killing ground together. Resets are everywhere.

Dead in the flooded grass.

Dead across the approach.

Dead beneath the shattered perimeter lights.